


Won't Wake Up Lonely

by thisissirius



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eduardo never imagined himself forgiving Mark at any point in his future. That was before the Turned and the millions of people falling to death and beyond seemingly by the hour. It's all Eduardo can do to stay alive but when Mark shows up out of the blue, it's a fight for survival but also one to forgive, forget and to try and make something more out of the situation they both find themselves in - and there's something Mark's hiding, something Eduardo isn't sure he really wants to know</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Wake Up Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: the character death in here is NOT part of the 'facebook four'. the ending is ambiguous.

**one | the end**

> The thing Eduardo remembers about the end is this;
> 
> he doesn’t ever wonder where his father is.
> 
>  
> 
>  **the end | new york**
>
>>   
> 
>> 
>> “I’m sorry,” Eduardo says, cradling the woman in his arms.
>> 
>> She dies slowly. They all do. Eduardo’s lost count of the people he’s seen die; three, forty, a hundred and five. They all start to blend together after a while. The first days are the worst. There's a lot of panic and anger and hate and worry and through it all, Eduardo locks himself in his apartment and tries to think of a way out of this. He plans, he strategizes, he thinks of the many ways that this can (and will) go wrong and he deliberately does not focus on why this is happening, why the world is ending this way. He deliberately does not think about anything except survival.
>> 
>>  
>>
>>>  **new york | mark**
>>>
>>>>   
> 
>>>> 
>>>> Eduardo doesn’t think about him. There are many times when he wants to (sleep, panic, and loneliness) but he never lets himself. He buries it down deep where he can’t focus too hard on it because odds are in favour of the other side. Eduardo doesn’t expect them to survive where they are. He watches what little news is being broadcast, the signal bad and crackly, but he knows enough to know that Silicon Valley is a wasteland; all that technology and brain power such a veritable wasteland.
>>>> 
>>>>   
> 
>>>>
>>>>> He doesn’t wonder if Mark thinks of him.  
> 
>>>> 
>>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> On the fifth day, Eduardo leaves his apartment.
>> 
>> He only leaves because he’s running low on supplies and he needs to eat. The last thing he wants to do is survive the Apocalypse only to die of starvation. His mother’s chiding tone rings in his ears when he starts to leave without taking any protection and his grip tightens on the baseball bat by the door.
>>
>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>> (It was a joke gift from Dustin after the depositions. The package was suspect in itself with Hello Kitty and Thunderbirds paper warring for ownership of the gift and Eduardo remembers grinning, tearing through the paper and finding a post-it stuck to the baseball bat with _feel free to hit him_ scrawled on it. There had been another gift, of course, but Eduardo’s always liked this one best; it’s a reminder of his past and of his friendship and he doesn’t want to forget that just because things aren’t okay right now.)
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>> He packs spare clothes, what little food he has left and a book to read along the way. He shoves it down into the bottom of the bag because he doesn’t doubt that it will stay there for most of the time; he doesn’t know where he’s going or if he’s even going to be coming back so he casts one last mournful look at his things and shuts the door with a heavy heart.
>> 
>> The hallway is deserted.
>> 
>> It’s the first time in a long time that the background noise of snarling and screams hasn’t invaded Eduardo’s senses and he’s cautious as he makes his way out of the building. Before this, he’s never noticed how many nooks and crannies an apartment block can hold but he knows them all now. He remembers where they all are and he checks them all. It’s a painstaking progress but he’s not going to lose his life because he’s lazy. He thinks his mother would be proud of him. He doesn’t wonder if she’s okay; he can’t think about her without an invisible hand squeezing his heart. Their aborted phone call on the first day doesn’t bode well for her end and if Eduardo thinks about it too much he wants to cry and he hasn’t done that since California.
>> 
>> The building is clear and Eduardo makes it to the glass doors. He can see both ways down the street and they seem deserted and safe but he’s seen things from his window, seen people who think they’re free go down with a tackle and a bite and it’s not the way he wants to go. He wonders if T.S.Elliot would ever care to know (dead or no) that the world isn’t going out with a whimper but with screams and blood and bodies lining the streets. He wonders if Hollywood knows how wrong it was to subscribe to the muscles and explosions theory of Apocalypse.
>> 
>> He wonders if anyone can ever be prepared for something like this.
>> 
>>  
>>
>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>> **california | mark**
>>>
>>>>   
> 
>>>> 
>>>> “You can’t go out there, Mark,” Chris says, gripping his elbow tightly.
>>>> 
>>>> Mark ignores him, just keeps moving and forces Chris to move alongside him. He’s got a backpack on one shoulder and the keys to his car in the other. The streets outside are so quiet it’s almost eerie and Chris can’t stand that Mark is going to go out in that, trying to _find_ trouble.
>>>> 
>>>> “Stay here. It’s safe.”
>>>> 
>>>> “Wardo’s not safe,” Mark bites out, wrenching his arm from Chris’s fingers. “Wardo’s out there somewhere and I need to save him.
>>>> 
>>>> Chris feels the anger leave his body because of _course_ this is about Eduardo. “Mark.”
>>>> 
>>>> “Chris.” Mark tilts his chin and casts a glance behind his shoulder, to where Dustin is sleeping fitfully on the couch in Mark’s office. “Keep them safe. Keep _him_ safe.”
>>>> 
>>>> “You know I will,” Chris promises and stops Mark one last time. “Come back. _Both_ of you.”
>>>> 
>>>> Mark nods but it’s not reassuring and Chris can do nothing but stare at the back of Mark’s head as he leaves.  
> 
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Eduardo imagines it like that sometimes. Mark leaving Palo Alto to come and find him, but he doesn’t entertain the fantasy for too long. Facebook is always going to be more important to Mark. It always has been and he didn’t want to fight for Eduardo then so why would he now? The end of the world would only mean to Mark the end of Facebook – and his legacy. He’s fought for so long to make a name for himself only to have it vanish along with half the world’s population. Eduardo wonders how that must feel.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Eduardo keeps to the shadows of the buildings, attention torn between the houses and stores, and the street around him. It’s self-preservation that keeps him alert and careful. He’s spent the last five days in his apartment but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t learnt things from watching. Not going to help doesn’t have to be a lasting legacy of guilt that he has to deal with; he can always learn from the mistakes other people make and treat them as testers; they didn’t die for nothing because Eduardo is using their knowledge to survive.
>> 
>> It’s odd to think this way but he does it because it keeps him from being angry and bitter at not intervening to save people. He thinks of his father in those moments and his disapproving glare, wondering why his son can’t be more like _someone else_. Eduardo loves his father and he always has but that’s making his search for approval all the more apparent. There’s a flicker in the shadows and Eduardo’s grip tightens on the baseball bat. He hugs the side of the building and peers around the corner. There’s a body on the floor, still moving and alert but Eduardo swallows and keeps moving. Every instinct is screaming at him to help but he knows he can’t. Dead bodies only attract the Turned and he doesn’t want to be around when they come for a late night snack.
>> 
>> He moves away quickly, crossing the street and slipping down a side alley. He knows the streets of New York better than he thought he would but he’s had a lifetime to learn. Singapore was a viable destination for a while but Eduardo likes America too much to leave completely. Besides, Mark is only one part of his life and he’s all the way in California. New York has always been that comfortable distance in between.
>> 
>> When he reaches the end of the block, he can feel a buzzing from the bottom of his bag and remembers the cell phone he put in there on a whim. The signals been down for days and he hasn’t been expecting anyone to care enough to call. The battery is slowly dying because he’s running out of places with enough electricity to run them and he doesn’t quite know why he keeps it going. It stops after a while but Eduardo’s curious enough to stop on the corner, squeezing himself into the doorway of a shop and hiding out of view. He struggles with his bag but grips the edge of the cell phone with his hand and tugs it free. The screen lights up at his touch and he’s startled to see Mark’s name emblazoned across the screen.
>> 
>>  _one missed call_
>> 
>> He thumbs the call button because he’s always been a little bit masochistic where Mark is concerned but it doesn’t connect. The signal’s dropped again and Eduardo sighs, sliding it into his pocket this time so that it’s within easy reach and shoulders his bag. He doesn’t know if he wants to ring Mark back when there’s better signal or just pretend that it never happened.
>> 
>> He starts off again, this time with a slightly lighter step.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> The next time his phone rings, Eduardo pulls it out with fingers that tremble slightly. He’s found his way into someone’s house but it’s empty and barren there’s blood all over the walls. It’s enough for the night. He checks the rooms just enough for dead bodies and Turned and then presses in between the door and the dresser, lying on a blanket stolen from the closet. He stares at the caller display and it says _Mark_ again but it’s a long time before Eduardo can hit the _call_ button and answer it.
>> 
>> “Hello?”
>> 
>> He can hear Mark breathing but neither of them says anything for a long time. Eduardo thinks _he’s alive_ and doesn’t know what to do with that information. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend that he’s still angry and hateful but he can’t. It drains out of him when Mark says, “Wardo.”
>> 
>> It feels like the distance between them (both now and between them as friends) is non-existent and Mark is right beside him, staring at him impassively and wondering if he’s touched in the head or okay or _coming, Wardo?_
>> 
>> “Mark.” It feels like something loosens in Eduardo’s chest and he clenches a fist around the blanket. “Are you okay?”
>> 
>> Mark ignores the questions and just says, “Wardo,” again, breathing harshly and letting out a huff that Eduardo assumes is a laugh. “Where are you?”
>> 
>> “New York,” Eduardo says immediately because he’s not going to lie, not now. “I don’t know where. I’m on the outskirts, I think. I’m getting the New Jersey transit.”
>> 
>> “Is that still running?”
>> 
>> Eduardo snorts. “I guess I’ll know tomorrow. If not, I’ll steal a car and drive out of here. I don’t want to stay in New York.”
>> 
>>  _It’s crowded_ , he wants to say. _People are dying in the streets, it’s hot and it’s scary and I want to be somewhere else._ Instead, he waits.
>> 
>> “Be careful, Wardo,” Mark says and then there’s silence.
>> 
>> Eduardo feels a twinge of anger because Mark’s hanging up on him, now? When he stares down at the phone, he sees that the signal has dropped out again and sighs. Typical. Still, he cradles the phone close to his chest and turns his face into his makeshift pillow. He knows Mark is okay and he’s still calling Eduardo _Wardo_ like they’re friends and Eduardo can’t bring himself to care.
>> 
>> It’s only when he puts the phone down that he thinks about Chris and Dustin.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> “You never called again,” Eduardo says into the phone and waits for the _beep_ to signal the end of the voicemail.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> When Eduardo reaches the transit, he’s not completely sure what to expect.
>> 
>> Empty train cars are running by themselves, the _clack clack clack_ as they rumble past runs right though Eduardo’s body and he doesn’t go looking for the operators. The electricity will cut out soon enough and when he reaches the platform, he doesn’t know if he wants to climb inside. If he gets stuck and they stop running for whatever reason, he’s going to be stranded and he knows that with his luck that could be New Jersey or it could be right in the middle of the tunnel. They are the perfect hiding place for the Turned and he doesn’t know their habits enough to bet his life on a train ride that might stick him in the middle of their little cluster of death. He’s not stupid.
>> 
>> It wouldn’t take much to find a car with the keys still in and he seriously contemplates doing that when the train car rolls to a stop and the doors open. It should be eerie and frightening but it’s not and Eduardo takes a deep breath. Before he can think about it too much, he peers down both ends of the carriage and makes sure it’s clear before stepping on. Just as he does so there’s a hand curling around his elbow and he yells, turning on his heel and staring into the face of someone who probably used to be human. Eduardo reacts in fear; he swings the bat up awkwardly but with enough power that it connects with bone and he hears it crunch with the force of the swing. Eduardo barely has time to twist out of the carriage, feet pounding on the concrete as he races off down the platform, hardly daring to look behind him as he runs. He can hear the harsh breathing and groans behind him and he ignores the burning in his lungs, the fire in his limbs as he forces them on. He runs until the noises go away and he can sink down to the floor, letting the baseball bat roll on the ground at his feet.
>> 
>>  _Fuck_ , he thinks and doesn’t realise he’s crying until he stops.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> “I got chased today,” Eduardo says, watching the battery life dim more as he does so. Calling Mark is eating into his battery but he thinks there’s something in the fact that he keeps calling. It’s nice to have someone to talk to; even if he’s not sure Mark’s even listening at the other end. “Dustin’s bat came in handy. You should thank him for me.”
>> 
>> Eduardo pauses. He stares out of the dirty window of the warehouse and sighs. “I don’t know where to go from here, Mark. I don’t even what I’m _doing_.”
>> 
>> He hangs up.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> He figures stealing a car has to be easier than trying to use the transit again. Either way, he knows he needs to get out of New York.  
> 
> 
>   
> 

 

 **two | mark**   


>   
> 
> 
> He dreams of Mark;
> 
> alive, alive, alive.
> 
> (He dreams of Mark answering his phone, holding it close and listening to Eduardo’s voice, just like Eduardo cradles his own phone, listens to his own voicemails, Mark’s voice steady and calm and speaking Eduardo’s name like he’s still _right there_.)
> 
>  
> 
>  **mark | _there_**   
> 
>
>>   
> 
>> 
>> Eduardo pushes against the door and yells for help.
>> 
>> He doesn’t know why he bothers because he hasn’t seen anyone alive for days. He strains against the force the other side of the door and is dimly aware of someone shouting his name but before he can wonder at that, he feels hands come up against the door and help him push. The Turned are getting stronger and Eduardo has to grit his teeth against the effort he's expelling against the door. This is ridiculous. How can he possibly hope to survive against such a vast population of brain-eating Zombies? This is like something out of the movies that Dustin likes to watch, with blood and gore and too many teeth. A leg slides against his and he's jolted back into the present. Together they manage to force the door closed and Eduardo fumbles with the lock. It won't hold for long but he hopes that by the time the Zombies manage to break through, he’ll be long gone. With the immediate threat settled for now, Eduardo turns to thank their rescuer and comes up short.
>> 
>> Eduardo blinks. "Mark?"
>> 
>> There's a nod and a shuffle of feet and then Eduardo's moving, fisting Mark's hoodie and yanking him closer. Mark flinches, fucking _flinches_ , but Eduardo doesn't care because Mark is real and solid under his hands. He's alive and Eduardo wants to pull him into a hug but there’s something that makes him stop. Maybe it’s the anger he’s been fighting since the voicemail. Maybe it’s all that’s still between them; they need to talk to each other and actually _listen_. Either way, it’s been a long time and despite the phone call and the wondering about him, Eduardo’s always expected to just _hate_ Mark, to feel the emotion running just under the surface every time he looked him in the eye. Some of the anger dissipated along with the phone call and voicemail and Eduardo’s had time to think about it, to run the events of those months through his mind and he can’t hate Mark. He’s disappointed that Mark could push aside everything they’d meant to each other so easily but there’s no hate.
>> 
>> There’s not much of anything.
>> 
>> That doesn’t stop him from being glad Mark's alive. This time he remembers to ask. “Chris and Dustin?”
>> 
>> Mark stiffens in his grasp and his fingers clench tight around Eduardo’s shirt.
>> 
>> “Mark?”
>> 
>> Pulling away, Mark shifts on his feet and pulls away. “We should move.”
>> 
>> Eduardo frowns because that doesn’t sound good and Chris and Dustin, they have to be safe because Eduardo _needs_ them to be safe. He takes the time to study Mark as he moves about the room. He’s wearing shorts and a hoodie (of course) but he’s got sneakers on and a gun tight in one hand. Eduardo doesn’t want to ask where Mark found that but he doesn’t doubt it will help. If Mark can use it, that is. Eduardo sighs and grants Mark’s wish for distraction for now.
>> 
>> “Where did you get a gun from?” Eduardo asks, reaching out and touching the surface of it with his fingers.
>> 
>> Mark’s face twists. “Sean.”
>> 
>> Of course. Eduardo drops his hand back to his side and tilts his head a little, assessing. “Where is Sean?”
>> 
>> “I don’t know,” Mark says too quickly and there’s something on his face that Eduardo’s seen before, sitting opposite him in a deposition room. Not quite self-deprecation but a sort of distaste. At himself or something else, Eduardo doesn’t know. There’s something that Mark isn’t telling him but Eduardo’s never been comfortable around Sean and doesn’t like a reminder of what happened between them before and so he lets it go.
>> 
>> “We can’t stay here,” he says, eventually. “How did you get here?”
>> 
>> “Walked,” Mark offers. “There’s a truck a mile down the highway.”
>> 
>> Eduardo’s been stuck here since having to abandon the train car but he doesn’t know if he can ride with Mark. He has no idea what his emotions are _doing_.
>> 
>> “You don’t have to ride with me.”
>> 
>> Eduardo looks up in surprise. “Oh?”
>> 
>> “There are other cars we can find.”
>> 
>> It’s not like Mark to think that far ahead, or to think of Eduardo’s comfort at all, but he reminds himself that lots of things are changing. He’s sometimes wondered how Mark’s coping with the abrupt change to what must have been a comfortable lifestyle. He wants to ask so many questions but there’s a scrape and bang against the door that shocks him back into the present.
>> 
>> “We’ll have to leave the way we came in.”
>> 
>> Eduardo is still armed, but not like Mark. He’s kept hold of Dustin’s baseball bat the entire time and it saved his life in the train car. He’s thought of salvaging other weapons from the wreckage and destruction around them but he’s always just kept hold of the bat and moved on.
>>
>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>> _“It’s like _Cold Fear_.” _
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>> Eduardo can almost hear Dustin saying that with a grin on his face, except they’re not stranded on a ship in the middle of nowhere. The analogy is not lost, however, because they are stuck in the middle of the city with hordes of Turned on every side.
>> 
>> “Eduardo.” Mark comes to stand beside him, hands tight around his gun. Eduardo thinks they should probably find another place that stocks firearms. He really can’t keep attacking them with the barest of weapons. The Turned are getting smarter and more vicious and he knows they need to start _really_ fighting back if they have any chance of getting out of here and onto the stretch of road. (He realises that he’s thinking of himself and Mark as a _we_ again but doesn’t know how to stop himself.) With any luck, without any living people to attack, the Turned will turn on themselves. That would be delicious irony.
>> 
>> “Dustin would be in his element.”
>> 
>> Mark gives him a pained smile but doesn’t say anything. Eduardo still wants to ask, demand to know where Chris and Dustin are and what’s happened but he has a creeping suspicion that he doesn’t _want_ to know. Just like he hasn’t told Mark about anyone else in his life; the aborted phone call to his parents, screams and shouts ringing in the background. He wonders absently if Mark managed to call his own parents.
>> 
>> Before he can ask, there’s another scrape and bang from the door and Eduardo hesitates. Mark gives him a strange look but cocks his gun. “We need to get out of here.”
>> 
>> Eduardo doesn’t give any acknowledgment, just pushes his way through the door and heads out.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> It’s a countdown to losing electricity.
>> 
>> They’ve already lost water and he knows that once they lose electricity, they’re going to lose most of the food stock. He’s trying not to think _beyond_ because that means this is too real, they have to prepare and Eduardo doesn’t think he can do that right now. He’s always been aware of his skills and Mark, Chris and Dustin used to appreciate his sense of practicality, his ability to always know what was needed and when but Eduardo’s not sure he can be that person anymore.
>> 
>> Eduardo’s just as scared by this as anyone else and looking at Mark out of the corner of his eye, the way he’s walking with the minimal attention on where he’s going, fingers darting over his dying iPhone, he knows that he must be displaying it as openly as Mark.
>> 
>> He’s better at hiding it, of course. Better at pretending that there’s nothing going on and he’s okay but Eduardo knows him better than anyone else on the planet. He can see the way Mark rubs his forefinger and middle finger together, over and over. The way he hunches in on himself, more so than usual and the way he sucks on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth.
>> 
>> Just as Mark’s tells are on display, he knows his own are apparent to Mark. At least, he hopes Mark still knows. Which is unfair because he’s seen Mark look at him, a glance out of the corner of his eye. It’s a calculated look, all concern and worry and a myriad of emotions that Eduardo’s never expected to see. Never thought he _would_ see because it’s been no secret that they haven’t communicated well over their separation. Mark’s always been wrapped up tight and never displays anything unintentionally but it’s like he’s forgotten or _wants_ Eduardo to see. As though he’s trying to be a better person, to Eduardo if nobody else.
>> 
>> It’s humbling and weird and not a little frightening.
>> 
>> There are other looks too. Mark’s brow furrows in an almost-glare and Eduardo can’t work out what he’s thinking. It’s like he’s scared to be in Eduardo’s presence and Eduardo can’t figure that out. It’s not like he’s going to punch Mark or beat him to the ground.  
> “How much farther?”
>> 
>> Mark startles, slides the phone into the pocket of his hoodie and shrugs. “I don’t remember.”
>> 
>> Eduardo resists the urge to roll his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mark parked miles outside of New York and they ended up walking for days without realising how much time was passing. Except he’s pretty sure Mark isn’t treating this like being wired in.
>> 
>> “How are you handling not having a laptop?” Eduardo asks, a little meanly.
>> 
>> Mark smiles like Eduardo’s told a joke and then runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the curls. Everything about him is so twisted and out of character but not really and it’s confusing enough that Eduardo doesn’t know what to do or say around him. He also knows that he doesn’t want to stop asking what Mark thinks and knowing what it’s been like without Eduardo around. It’s a little masochistic but Eduardo’s been feeling betrayed by his heart _missing_ Mark when all he’s wanted to do is hate him.
>> 
>> Eduardo could repeat himself but he doesn’t. He doesn’t really want to know that Mark would prefer to have a computer than be walking with Eduardo. He doesn’t want to know any of that. He focuses instead on the streets around them. He’s thought about complaining about having to walk without rest but he’s ever conscious of the Turned hot on their heels. He doesn’t doubt for one second that they’ve noticed them sneaking out of the city.
>> 
>> He’s cautious enough to keep them out of view, hugging the buildings as closely as possible.
>> 
>> “I have my iPhone,” Mark says at last and Eduardo snorts. “If it loses battery, I won’t be-”
>> 
>> “Won’t be what, Mark?”
>> 
>> Mark frowns at Eduardo’s expression and Eduardo bites back on saying something nasty. He’s taking out his frustration from the whole situation on Mark and he knows it’s not fair but it’s the easiest thing to do, Mark’s the _easiest_ person to do it to. There’s enough bitterness and betrayal left over from _before_ that Eduardo doesn’t find it hard to snap at Mark at all.
>> 
>> “Sorry.”
>> 
>> “Are you?” Mark asks, hiding his hands back in his pockets. He’s still as frustrating as ever but Eduardo's had enough time to realise that Mark isn’t everything he’s always been sure he is. “It’s not going to be bad. When the battery dies. Is what I was going to say.”
>> 
>> He shrugs deeper into his hoodie and it’s a physical end to the conversation even if he hasn’t specifically said it is. Eduardo curses under his breath because he hates not being certain. He hates knowing that he’s determined to call Mark out on everything and anything when Mark’s trying, _fucking trying_ to get along with him.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> “Here,” Mark says, pulling out another gun from his backpack. Eduardo hadn’t even seen the stupid thing. “Sean gave me this as well.”
>> 
>> It’s a little smaller than Mark’s and Eduardo knows next to nothing about weapons but he knows it’s a generic handgun. The type he’s seen in movies. He doesn’t take it. “Mark, I can’t.”
>> 
>> “Eduardo - _Wardo_.” Mark ignores Eduardo’s flinch at the over-familiar nickname. “Please. I need you to - You need to defend yourself. People. Yourself and people.”
>> 
>> He hesitates a little while longer and then takes it. It has to be better than smashing in faces with a baseball bat and a rucksack.
>> 
>> “Do you know how to use it?”
>> 
>> “Why the fuck would I know how to use a gun?”
>> 
>> Mark doesn’t say anything in the face of Eduardo’s anger and Eduardo stops himself from apologising. There’s an impasse and neither of them are quite sure where to go. Then Mark’s touching Eduardo’s hands, forcing him to hold the gun properly. Eduardo spares a glance for the world around him; they’re secluded enough that there’s no one around but Eduardo hasn’t survived this long by making loads of noise and drawing attention to himself.
>> 
>> “Later,” he tells Mark. “I can’t now.”
>> 
>> Mark just blinks, like he doesn’t understand. It’s not like Eduardo expects him to.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> They can _see the truck_.
>> 
>> It should be easy but it’s not because they can hear the wail and thunder of Turned behind them. Eduardo can’t concentrate but he sees Mark reaching into his hoodie pocket for something and he throws it at Eduardo before sprinting out from the safety of the bushes and waving his arms. _Fuck, fuck_.
>> 
>> “MARK!”
>> 
>> Mark ignores him, pulls out his gun and just starts firing.
>> 
>> Eduardo turns to see what Mark threw and it’s the keys to the truck and _he wants Eduardo to leave_? Eduardo’s chest feels tight and he doesn’t know what to do. Scrambling along the tarmac, he reaches the keys and grabs them, lurching to his feet and he hates this because Mark’s such a fucking idiot and how is he supposed to leave when Mark’s being self-sacrificing and out of character?
>> 
>> Eduardo doesn’t even know what he’s doing but before he can think about it, he’s standing, grabbing his own gun and chasing after Mark's stupid ass.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> It turns out he does know how to fire a gun when he has to.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> “It’s worse when you recognise them,” Mark says, standing over one of the bodies. He’s not looking at them, just standing there, solemn and proud like he’s in a fucking movie and he does this every day. It’s a little disturbing to realise that he’s been doing this for a little bit longer than Eduardo. Even without stopping for breaks and driving across country for three and a half days, Mark would have encountered Turned. He doesn’t doubt that they’re everywhere; towns, cities, even lining the highways.
>> 
>> Eduardo just shrugs, letting the hand holding the gun rest by his hip. “I killed them.”
>> 
>> Mark eyes him, a little bit wary and a little bit uncertain. It’s the most awkward that Eduardo’s seen him since they reunited. It’s been hours, fucking _hours_ and he’s still not sure what he’s supposed to do here. He wishes his anger hadn’t faded sometime around Mark’s stupid dash into the throes of danger. “Wardo.”
>> 
>> “Don’t call me that,” Eduardo snaps, turning his back on Mark and heading away from the dead people. They used to be _people_. Eduardo might have seen them, talked to them. This is all so stupid and pointless and -
>> 
>> He pauses in the middle of the road, pressing the palm of his hand to his left eye. He forces himself to calm down, to breathe and _think_. When he pulls his hand away, Mark’s standing next to him, not saying a word and studying the floor.
>> 
>> “Come on.” Eduardo touches the small of Mark’s back and Mark makes a soft noise that Eduardo can’t decipher. He nods tightly and starts moving. Eduardo frowns but doesn’t want to analyse it too much. He sighs, starts walking and tries to figure out where the safety on a gun is.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> When they reach the truck, Eduardo hands over the keys and Mark takes them wordlessly. They both check out the vehicle thoroughly, knowing that just because there are no Turned around in the streets, doesn’t mean they won’t find one hiding away. They get cleverer as the days wear on and Eduardo doesn’t know how they can keep surviving like this. One day, he thinks, they’re going to end up dead or bitten and he’s trying to come to terms with that. It’s like he’s living someone else’s life and it should be terrifying but it’s only terrifying in the way that he’s accepting this so easily. He never thought this could _be_ his life, let alone accept it and move on.
>> 
>> “Eduardo?”
>> 
>> Mark trips up over the first syllable and Eduardo almost tells him not to bother but he climbs in the truck anyway, cradling the gun in his lap. He sighs, looking out of the window. “Where too?”
>> 
>> “Wherever you want to go,” Mark says, staring the truck. It startles Eduardo because Mark’s never cared that much about what anyone else wants; only sticking to his own plans. He shrugs, leaving the decision to Mark. As long as they leave New York and get away from here and from the memories, Eduardo doesn’t care. He’s sick of staring his mistakes in the face, although he’s aware that he’s sharing a truck with the biggest mistake of his life.
>> 
>> And it hurts to think of Mark like that but he’s still not sure how he feels, how to reconcile what Mark did with the Mark that’s here now, that left voicemails on his phone, that travelled across America to come and find him. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He’ll figure it out later.
>> 
>> Mark starts the truck and they drive off.
>> 
>> That night, as they’re driving along an almost deserted highway, Eduardo asks about Chris and Dustin.
>> 
>> Mark’s eyes darken and he shrugs. Eduardo isn’t going to accept that.
>> 
>> “Mark? Where are they?”
>> 
>> “I don’t want to talk about it,” Mark snaps and he shuts up. Eduardo knows better than anyone that once Mark’s made a decision not to talk about something, then he won’t. It doesn’t make it any easier to accept but he gives in for now. He stores the information away and doesn’t want to think about _why_ Mark doesn’t want to talk about it. Fear grips him because fuck, Chris and Dustin _can’t_ be dead but without proof, verbal or otherwise, then he isn’t going to entertain the notion. Dustin wouldn’t die, not without annoying the hell out of any Turned that tried and it’s hard to picture defiant, awesome Chris falling to the Turned too easily. He doesn’t know that they’d let Mark leave like he did but he’s too tired and angry and frustrated to think about it. He shoves it all down and decided to only bring it back up when he really has to.
>> 
>> He’ll let Mark tell him because he’s going to, even if Eduardo has to make him.
> 
>   
> 

**three | confession**

> Eduardo stares when he thinks Mark isn’t looking;
> 
> catalogues and remembers and wonders if he’s going to lose Mark soon. (He loses everything).
> 
> (The second time they tumble out of the truck for supplies, they encounter more Turned but there’s two of them and they’re ready. They fight, a flurry of bullets, blood and screams. Eduardo checks himself over and he’s pleased to see Mark and maybe it’s this that breaks him. He can't help but pull Mark into a hug, bury his hands in Mark's hair and hold on. Mark’s breathing against his neck and it’s a beat before he puts his hands on Eduardo’s waist. He’s shaking, Eduardo realises, but that is not uncommon these days.
> 
> He thinks he’s probably shaking in return but he’s alive, Mark’s alive and for now that has to be okay.)
>
>>  **confession | mark**   
> 
>>
>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>> Eduardo’s slept in various places over the last few days but having to shack up for the night in the truck isn’t the most appealing thing he’s ever had to do.
>>> 
>>> It’s not comfortable enough for them to both sleep sitting up even though he knows Mark’s had plenty of practice. Mark doesn’t offer him the backseat, just starts to shove shirts and jackets down around the gearbox and brake so that he can lie down comfortably. It’s oddly touching but Eduardo doesn’t call him on it because he knows that Mark would just shrug and turn away like he’s not offering anything of value. Eduardo waits for Mark to sit back and then climbs through the gap in the chairs, grabbing the blanket from Mark’s hands. He shifts around, trying to get comfortable and ignores the vibrations and beeps of Mark’s phone. He’s pretty sure it’s going to die out tonight because as much as Mark’s been conserving his battery, there’s only so far it will take you, even on the lowest light setting. He rolls over and faces the back of the seat. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to sleep.
>>> 
>>> Mark kills the light a little after and they’re thrown into complete darkness. It’s better for them because the Turned seem willing to overlook any cars that don’t have immediate evidence of occupancy.
>>> 
>>> “Wardo?”
>>> 
>>> Eduardo closes his eyes and sighs. He’s given up trying to get Mark to call him _Ed_ uardo. “What?”
>>> 
>>> “I had to kill Sean.”
>>> 
>>> Eduardo freezes. _Holy shit_. “Oh, Mark.”
>>> 
>>> Mark shifts but Eduardo doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t think he wants to see the expression on Mark’s face.
>>> 
>>> “We were driving to find you. He wanted to come. Said he’d be great company.” Mark pauses and Eduardo’s about to say something when he continues. “We were in Denver. Getting gas. Whatever. They were in the bathroom.”
>>> 
>>> Eduardo doesn’t know what to say. He’s never liked Sean but that doesn’t mean he ever wished him dead and Mark, well Mark’s always had a _thing_ about Sean. Whatever it is. Hero-worship. Genuine friendship. Eduardo doesn’t know.
>>> 
>>> He’s also aware that if Mark killed Sean, then his reluctance to talk about Chris and Dustin is even more telling – did he have to kill them as well?
>>> 
>>> “Come back here,” Eduardo says, shifting to make room on the back seat. Maybe that’s all Mark’s been waiting to hear because he’s climbing between the seats before Eduardo’s even moved out of the way. They sit side by side and it’s mostly uncomfortable because Eduardo knows he should probably put an arm around Mark’s shoulders or _something_ but bar the hug they shared back when Mark first found them, he hasn’t properly touched him. He’s been a little bit afraid of _after_ ; that he’ll forget what Mark’s done. It seems mean for that to be the reason he doesn’t now but he can’t stop the way his mind works around this problem. The world’s ending and he can’t get over something Mark did years ago. Even now, when Mark’s imparting probably the greatest secret he has, Eduardo doesn’t know what to do.
>>> 
>>> The silence stretches on but then Mark turns a little, resting against the side door and it’s got to be an uncomfortable position. Eduardo sighs, reaching out for Mark and pulling him back towards the middle of the seat.
>>> 
>>> “Mark. I don’t know what to say.”
>>> 
>>> “Nothing?” Mark tilts his head in that infuriating way he has of doing. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted pity, Wardo.”
>>> 
>>> “Why did you tell me, then?”
>>> 
>>> “When you killed those zombies earlier. I saw your face.”
>>> 
>>> Eduardo wants to laugh. _Of course_ Mark’s confession about Sean only comes because he’s worried about Eduardo’s feelings. He rests his hand on the back of Mark’s neck, lets his fingers stretch into Mark’s curls. “You’re so stupid sometimes.”
>>> 
>>> “Is that so?” Mark keeps his tone neutral but he’s pressing back into Eduardo’s hand.
>>> 
>>> It should be uncomfortable. He shouldn’t _want_ this but it’s been a long time and it seems stupid to hold onto grudges and anger when they might die at any moment. If he dies in an hour, a day or even a week, he doesn’t think he wants to be mad at Mark anymore. He doesn’t know and it’s beyond frustrating. He settles for tilting Mark’s head, resting it on his shoulder. They manoeuvre themselves around until they’re both lying down.
>>> 
>>> There is _really_ not enough room for them here but Eduardo’s back is pressed against the door and Mark’s lying between his legs, head pillowed on his chest. There’s an ache in Eduardo’s chest with how familiar this is. Mark shifts a little and tilts his head up. “We’re going to get out of this, Wardo.”
>>> 
>>>  _Don’t make promises I know you can’t keep, Mark._
>>> 
>>> He doesn't say the words out loud, just keeps carding his hand through Mark’s hair and staring down at him, wondering what he _can_ say that won’t have them fighting again. Mark’s eyes don’t leave his face. The car feels too hot all of a sudden and he knows he shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t be moving, and tilting his head down when Mark reaches up, a hand on Eduardo’s chest for leverage.
>>> 
>>> They’re kissing before he can decide if he wants to say no.
>>> 
>>> Mark’s making noises against his mouth, fingers flexing against Eduardo’s shirt and Eduardo lets his eyes fall closed, spreading his fingers against the back of Mark's head. Common sense is telling him not to be an idiot, to pull away and tell Mark to fuck off but he’s been desperate for this for so long, since _Harvard_. He can argue with himself later about the practicality of this, of what it _means_ for them but right now he just wants to kiss Mark and pretend that everything’s going to be okay.
>>> 
>>> Only it’s not just kissing. Mark lets out another noise and something tightens in Eduardo’s chest. He tangles his fingers in Mark’s hair and deepens the kiss, aware that they’re tight and close and there really _isn’t_ room on the back seat. Part of his mind is screaming at him because he’s making out with _Mark_ and it’s the end of the world and he could die at any moment but maybe that’s what makes it all the more alluring. Having Mark all to himself, intoxicating and real and alive under his hands. _Fucking hard_ against his leg.
>>> 
>>> Mark shifts a little and Eduardo can feel it. He pulls away a little, swallowing and Mark’s looking at him and it’s not the closed off expression he’s used to. Mark looks a little apprehensive like Eduardo’s going to push him away.
>>> 
>>> “Fucking crazy,” Eduardo says, pushing forward for another kiss. He manages to get a hand between them and cups Mark through his ridiculous shorts. Mark grunts and thrusts down onto Eduardo’s hand. Eduardo smiles against Mark’s mouth, pulling his hand back only so that he can slide it in between skin and material until his fingers are wrapped around Mark’s dick. Mark jerks back and there’s no fucking room but he wriggles until he can press his face into Eduardo’s neck and Eduardo just keeps stroking, thumbing the head and twisting in just the way he’s always imagined. Mark’s panting, all the noises Eduardo remembers from that night in the bar, a stall door and Alice and Christy between them but now there’s nothing there, now it’s just Mark and Eduardo and Eduardo’s hand on Mark’s dick and it’s so far from perfect but it’s all Eduardo needs right now.
>>> 
>>> All Mark needs.
>>> 
>>> (He comes with a shout, fingers tight against Eduardo’s hip bones as he guides him into thrusting against mark’s leg, friction, friction, friction until he can come himself, crying Mark’s name into his hair as they press together, too fucking tight in the back of the truck but it’s okay, it’s fine, it feels _right_.)
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Things are awkward.
>> 
>> Eduardo wishes they aren’t but there’s not a whole lot he can do about it. They wake up too close, too sticky and too uncomfortable and Eduardo can’t think of anything to say. Mark tries too, mouth opening and closing before he shuts down completely, staying silent despite Eduardo’s attempts to coax something (anything) out of him. It continues all day and it frustrates Eduardo until he’s holding onto his anger again, simmering just under the surface, waiting for the smallest thing. He wants to snap, wants something to happen so that he can shout at Mark and mean it. In the end, he forces it into the nastiness he’s long since thought himself over.
>> 
>> “Mark.”
>> 
>> Mark looks up from packing up the last of their things. “What?”
>> 
>> “You killed Sean.” Ignoring the darkening of Mark’s eyes, Eduardo continues. “Does that mean that you could-”
>> 
>> “Kill you?” Mark’s face remains impassive but it was never Mark’s face that Eduardo had learnt to read. He’s hurt somewhere. “Wardo, no.”
>> 
>> “Chris and Dustin-”
>> 
>> “I don’t want to talk about them. They have nothing to do with why I wouldn’t – couldn’t – let you die.”
>> 
>> “I asked if you could kill me, not let me die,” Eduardo snaps.
>> 
>> “Wardo-“
>> 
>> “ _Mark_.”
>> 
>> “No, Wardo, no.” It’s clear enough that the conversation is over. Mark’s hand tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles are white but Eduardo doesn’t know if that’s because he doesn’t want to answer the questions or if he can’t let Eduardo die. Part of Eduardo wants to be pleased by the response; it says a lot that Mark wants to protect him. On the other hand, it only cements his resolve to find out about Chris and Dustin.
>> 
>>  
>>
>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>> **confession | chris and dustin**
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>>>
>>>>   
> 
>>>> 
>>>> He brings it up the next night, when they’re on the outskirts of another city. They’re sitting by the side of the road, a crackling fire between them.
>>>> 
>>>> “Chris and Dustin,” Eduardo says, when the crackling fire isn’t as much of a distraction as he’d like it to be. “What happened to them?”
>>>> 
>>>> Mark’s face looks odd in the low light, shadowed but still young. Eduardo’s always been struck by how young he looks. “They’re in Palo Alto.”
>>>> 
>>>> “I thought from the way you reacted-”
>>>> 
>>>> “Dustin was injured.” Mark lifts his head and must see something in Eduardo’s face because he adds, “Not bitten.”
>>>> 
>>>> Letting out a breath, Eduardo pokes at the fire gently with a stick, watching the flames rise a little higher. It’s fucking _cold_. It’s a little anti-climatic and he wants to get mad at Mark for making him worry like he has been but it would have been just as easy to suck it up and _ask_. Besides, he’s tired of always being angry at Mark, especially with the ghost of his fingers on Eduardo’s face, and the memory of their kiss. He sighs. “I’m surprised they didn’t come with you.”
>>>> 
>>>> Mark smiles, small and soft and it’s a surprise. “They wanted to. I don’t think they were convinced I could save you all on my own.”
>>>> 
>>>> “I resent that you think I needed saving,” Eduardo says, a hint of amusement in his tone. Mark’s smile falls but Eduardo doesn’t really know why and so he presses again, gently. “They stayed because of Dustin’s injury?”
>>>> 
>>>> Nodding, Mark scratches absently at his ankle, hooking his fingers around it when he’s done. “Chris wouldn’t leave him behind. They’re still in the office.”
>>>> 
>>>>  _I hope_.
>>>> 
>>>> He doesn’t have to say the words aloud for Eduardo to know his meaning. Dustin’s never been good at staying put when there’s something that needs doing and Eduardo doesn’t see Chris wanting to sit behind either. He feels oddly touched and smiles. “Thanks.”
>>>> 
>>>> Mark just blinks at him across the fire. Eduardo holds his gaze and slowly, surely, Mark smiles back.  
> 
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>>   
> 
>> 
>> Eduardo leans back against the door of the truck, knees pulled up under his chin and feet clinging to the edge of the seat. Mark’s driving again, head tipped back against the chair and hands loose on the wheel. He seems at ease, eyes lighter than Eduardo’s seen them since they met up and he likes to think that he’s partially responsible.
>> 
>> He knows Chris and Dustin are alive; he and _Mark_ are alive. They’ll make it back to Palo Alto and they’ll find Chris and Dustin; Eduardo is sure of it.
> 
>   
> 

 

 **four | chris and dustin**   


> Chris thinks it’s a joke.
> 
> Dustin’s grinning something about _zombies_ and _this is so great, Chris, seriously_ but then it’s not so great because Dustin gets attacked right outside the office and all Chris can think is _shit_.
> 
>  
> 
>  **chris and dustin | departure**   
> 
>
>>   
> 
>> 
>> Mark leaves because he has to.
>> 
>> Chris stays behind because he has to.
>> 
>> Dustin hasn’t got a choice because Chris isn’t going to lose him like he’s losing everyone else. It doesn’t matter that Dustin is sleeping anyway, arm at an awkward ankle and a sheet thrown haphazardly over his body where he’s lying on Mark’s couch. Outside the office, the rest of the staff are moving about and none of them seem to know what to do. Neither does Chris. Sometimes he hates that his job meant he was looked to for advice because that’s carried over and he doesn’t know how to tell them that Dealing With Zombie’s 101 was not one of the classes he took in college.
>> 
>> Chris stares out of the window. The streets are empty. The buildings are empty. It’s like the Turned drove everything out from her to San Francisco airport. He used to wonder as a child what the world would be like without people and without sound and now that he has the answer, he’s not sure he likes it very much. Mark is out there somewhere, just one man and a car and an entire spread of death and destruction between him and Wardo. Eduardo.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> Dustin stirs in sleep and Chris goes to his side. It’s easier to be here, he thinks. Easier to wait out the end instead of going to look for it like Mark.
>> 
>> He’s not sure if he feels guilty or satisfied with that.
>>
>>>   
> 
>>>
>>>>   
> 
>>>> 
>>>> **dustin | silicon valley**
>>>> 
>>>>   
> 
>>>>
>>>>>   
> 
>>>>> 
>>>>> “Are they okay?” Dustin whispers into the curve of Chris’s neck.
>>>>> 
>>>>> Chris can’t say _I don’t know_ because he can’t break Dustin not like that. Dustin isn’t stupid but sometimes he likes to believe what Chris says because it’s easier than thinking that something might not be happening the way he wants it to. Chris rests a hand on the back of Dustin’s head and nods. He can’t make his voice work. Dustin accepts it anyway;
>>>>> 
>>>>> He lets out a breath against Chris’s collarbone and closes his eyes.
>>>>> 
>>>>>  _Don’t make a liar,_ Chris thinks.  
> 
>>>> 
>>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>> “Don’t make me a liar,” Chris says to the glass window, fists clenched and the shadow of the sun falling on nothing and nobody. “Please.”  
> 
> 
>   
> 

 

 **five | safety**   


> **safety | eduardo**   
> 
>
>> Mark slides a hand around Eduardo’s mouth and it’s all Eduardo can do not to pull away. He can feel Mark shift behind him, a steady thud of a heartbeat against his back and he closes his eyes. There’s a scrape and wail and he pretends that he can’t hear it, that the shift and drag of feet doesn’t mean his impending doom is about to come through that door and kill them.
>> 
>> “Wardo,” Mark says. Eduardo shivers, lifts his hands to Mark’s arm so that he can hold tight to _something_. “Stay quiet.”
>> 
>> Eduardo snorts against Mark’s hand. It’s not like he’s going to _want_ to draw attention to them. He doesn’t have a death wish. He opens his eyes and sees the door fly open. They could just shoot them, _stand up_ and shoot them but there’s more of them and Eduardo and Mark aren’t skilled enough to take them on.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> “What the-” Mark starts and Eduardo’s gaze is drawn back to the doorway. Some of the Turned are moving away, going back though the doorway and it’s too much to hope that they’ve just decided not to bother to look for them after all but there’s still three of them in the room.
>> 
>> Eduardo pulls Mark’s hand away from his mouth. “Move.”
>> 
>> “Wardo-
>> 
>> One of the Turned lurches toward their hiding place and Mark’s already twisting away from Eduardo, pulling out his gun and firing.
>> 
>> “Go!”
>> 
>> Eduardo doesn’t have to be told twice, ducks out of the grasp of one of the Turned as Mark fires off two more shots and turns to help Eduardo.
>> 
>> “Mark!”
>> 
>> Mark rolls away, brings up a knee and slams it into the groin of the person, zombie, _thing_ trying to claw at him. His gun is back in his hand a second later, firing up again and again. Eduardo doesn’t have time to check if he’s alright before there’s another on him, a horrible gnarled hand reaching for his shoulder. He twists out of its grip and feels pain rip through his shoulder at the wrench. He forces it down, slams an elbow back into the Zombie’s ribcage and stumbles out of the way.
>> 
>> He can’t remember where he put his _fucking gun_ and he can feel the Zombie coming but Mark’s too far away and his eyes are wide, fumbling for his own gun and fuck, fuck, Eduardo turns because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.
>> 
>> He stares up into the face of his death and then there’s a whine, a shout and blood explodes all over Eduardo’s face. The next few minutes are a blur of white noise but then Mark’s in front of him, wiping his face and Eduardo struggles to focus on his words.
>> 
>> “Wardo? Wardo, did he bite you?”
>> 
>> He shakes his head, knowing that this is probably what shock feels like. He’s shaking, blinking furiously and trying to focus, to make sense but then Mark’s got a hand on his cheek and he’s pulling him close and Eduardo can only gasp against his shoulder, heart pounding in his chest. He still doesn’t know what happened. He’s sure he should be dead, bitten and chewed out and _one of them_.
>> 
>> “What happened?”
>> 
>> Mark turns his head and Eduardo sees them. He fights to his feet, ignores how shaky and weak his legs feel and envelopes them both in a hug. It doesn’t take them long to hug him back and Eduardo feels something tight in his chest loosen at the sight of them. “I thought, Mark and I, we-”
>> 
>> “It’s okay, Wardo,” Chris says, hand cupping the back of Eduardo’s neck. “It’s okay.”
>> 
>> “I always told you Resident Evil was great practice,” Dustin chimes in and it’s so fucking inappropriate and ridiculous but Eduardo laughs because it’s _Dustin_ and the four of them are alive, okay and _alive_.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> “Palo Alto is a ghost town,” Chris explains. “It’s like the Turned decided anywhere but Silicon Valley was fair game. It’s so eerie and dead, silent all the time. It was uncomfortable and weird and Dustin was recovering, itching to be out there doing something.”
>> 
>> Eduardo nods because he knows what that feels like. Mark and Dustin are bent over the laptop Chris had pulled from his backpack, fighting to get it to work on limited battery. There’s got to be nothing left of the WiFi signal now that it’s been thirteen days. He’s surprised things haven’t already dissolved into nothing. “How many people survived?”
>> 
>> Chris shrugs but there’s a pain to his face that Eduardo recognises. “I don’t know. Half? Dustin and I managed to lock them in when we left. They only had enough food and water for five days.”
>> 
>> That means they’ve been without eight at the most. Leaving the building without sufficient protection would have been suicide. Eduardo hopes they had it. He tilts his head, recognises the expression on Chris’ face. There are a hundred and one trite things Eduardo can say but he isn’t callous and he isn’t stupid; they both know this isn’t going to end any way but badly. He just sighs. “Mark and I have been alone about that time. We’d be out of New Jersey by now, but you know Mark.”
>> 
>> “He did something stupid and you cleaned up the mess?”
>> 
>> It’s not as harsh as it should be and Eduardo nods, smiling. “Something like that. Good cause,” he adds, because it’s not like Mark was doing it without purpose.
>> 
>> “And you and Mark? Are things okay?”
>> 
>> Eduardo wants to lie, wants to say that things are bad or that they’re fine but this is Chris, someone who knows them both and was there to see them fall apart, watched it happen and lived with the after affects. “I don’t know.”
>> 
>> Chris doesn’t ask him to elaborate and Eduardo’s thankful. He’s not sure he can explain it. Ever since that night in the car that they’re deliberately not talking about, Eduardo’s been trying to understand what’s changed between them. He’s not angry anymore but he’s sure he’s not feeling _okay_ about any of this. There’s something in Mark’s avoidance of the subject that he can’t pin down.
>> 
>> “You’ve always managed,” Chris offers.
>> 
>> Eduardo just nods. However true that might be, things have shifted between Eduardo and Mark and he doesn’t know how to handle someone he doesn’t even _know_ anymore.
>> 
>> Chris, who has always been the better of them at reading people, reaches over and punches him lightly on the knee. He’s looking over Eduardo’s shoulder and Eduardo hears the scuff of shoes against the floor. “I’ll go help Dustin.”
>> 
>> It takes all of Eduardo’s willpower not to ask him to stay. He waits and eventually Mark sits down beside him, playing with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Did you get WiFi?”
>> 
>> Mark shakes his head and then frowns. “I’m not sorry, Wardo.”
>> 
>> “What?”
>> 
>> Mark turns towards him, expressionless but it doesn’t seem to matter; Eduardo can see everything he needs to in Mark’s eyes.
>> 
>> Eduardo smoothes down the knee of his pants. “For which part?”
>> 
>> Mark doesn’t answer for a moment and then stops fiddling with his sleeve. He reaches over and takes Eduardo’s hand, pulling it towards him. Eduardo frowns because he doesn’t know what Mark’s doing; he doesn’t touch Eduardo unless it’s necessary. “In the car. After I told you about Sean.”
>> 
>>  _Kissing you_. Everything that came after.
>> 
>> Unable to keep from smiling, Eduardo looks down at their hands. Mark’s threading their fingers together but he’s not paying attention to that, he’s looking up and out over the city, what must be dead and disgusting and _empty_. Mark runs his thumb over the back of Eduardo’s hand.
>> 
>> Neither of them says anything for a long time.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> The laptop is a bust.
>> 
>> Eduardo isn’t sure why they bother; communication is the easiest way for them to be found and he’s not sure he _wants_ to meet up with anyone else. He wants to know how his parents are, if they’re even _alive_ , but beyond that the more people there are, the more attached he gets and the worse it will be when they inevitably die. He already has to mentally stop himself from dreaming and thinking up the hundreds of ways he could lose Chris and Dustin after just finding them and he has to clench his fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hands every time Mark flashes up behind his eyelids, dying at the hands of Turned.
>> 
>> “Wardo?” Mark’s standing over him, a hand on his shoulder and Eduardo forces himself not to tense. “We’re leaving.”
>> 
>> Eduardo nods because he’s ready for this now; ready for all of them to be on their way and stay _together_.
>> 
>> It’s only when they’re leaving that the Turned show up again. Mark’s already tugging out his weapon and this time, Eduardo’s hand is steady on his own as he fires off a round. Chris and Dustin wade into the fray and something feels right about the four of them fighting their way out of the building, the noise almost deafening through the combinations of weapons, shouts and the wailing of the Turned. Eduardo shoulders his way out of the door, hot on the heels of Mark, Chris and Dustin as they make for the safety of the car. He turns one last time, bringing up his gun and firing. When he shifts on his leg, reaching for the safety of the car, one of the Turned grips his elbow and it’s like the last time, like standing outside the transit and getting grabbed. He swallows down the fear, yelling for Mark.
>> 
>> Mark’s already coming; weapon raised and ready to fire but Eduardo knows he wont, not when there’s a chance he might hit Eduardo. Eduardo feels terror grip his chest but he swallows it down, bringing up his elbow and slamming into the Turned’s chest. Just as he twists out of the grasp, he feels himself stumble and he hits the ground with an audible _smack_. Just before he blacks out, he feels the unmistakable heat of breath on his cheek and pain, so much pain.
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> He’s fine. He’s really fine.
> 
>   
> 

**six | the beginning**   


>  
> 
> Eduardo’s reflection is pale.
> 
> The mark on his face is jagged and raw, blood still caking the edges of the bandage and he wonders why he isn’t more afraid. He doesn’t know – and Mark and Chris can’t tell either – if he was bitten or if it’s an injury he made during the fall but either way, Eduardo can’t help but think he should feel more fear. A bite would mean death for himself and maybe even for his friends. Death to _Mark_. He should run and leave and save them –
> 
> “Wardo,” Mark says, touching his hip and guiding him close to his body. Eduardo meets his gaze through the mirror and feels safe and wanted. He can’t leave. Not again. He thinks _please, Mark_ but doesn’t know what he’s asking for.
> 
>  
> 
>  **the beginning | resistance**   
> 
>
>>   
> 
>> 
>> (They learn about the resistance in California via Facebook. There’s something about it that’s a mix of poetic justice and irony. Mark touches the screen with his fingers and Eduardo knows that he’s thinking about the website; a website that’s running on empty and will probably die out sooner or later. He searches Mark’s face for emotion but there’s not much to see beyond acceptance.
>> 
>> “I’m sorry,” he offers.
>> 
>> Mark just shrugs and closes the laptop. “Let’s go.”)  
> 
>>
>>>  
>>> 
>>>  **the beginning | dream a little bigger**   
> 
>>>
>>>> Mark’s driving.
>>>> 
>>>> Eduardo stretches out in the passenger seat and spares a glance in the rear view mirror. Dustin is asleep with his head tilted on Chris’s shoulder and Chris is reading the book Eduardo shoved to the bottom of his bag all those weeks ago. He smiles and makes a mental note to find some supplies somewhere. The journey isn’t going to take months but there’s a lot between here and there and they’re going to fight, he knows that as well as he knows they’ll make up afterwards.
>>>> 
>>>> “Wardo,” Mark says, softly. He has the butt of the gun sticking out the pocket of his hoodie and for a second Eduardo stares it, wonders why Mark’s armed in the car. He usually rests it on the dashboard or down the side of the seat. He rarely has it close to his person when they’re driving.
>>>> 
>>>> Eduardo rests a hand on Mark’s thigh. “Yeah?”
>>>> 
>>>> “What if there’s nothing left?”
>>>> 
>>>> There’s a silence for a minute while Eduardo thinks about what to say. He could lie but that doesn’t feel right, not after everything they’ve been through together. Eduardo shrugs lightly and squeezes Mark’s leg. “Then we make something new. Something better.”
>>>> 
>>>> Mark’s lip twitches and he nods. Eduardo shifts and winces, feels the tug of the bandage when he does so and looks in the mirror. The bandage is stark and white against his tanned cheek and as he presses a finger to it, he catches Chris’s smile in the mirror. There’s darkness in his eyes but Eduardo figures it’s because of Dustin’s injuries. He shrugs and feels satisfied. He knows they will. They’ll make something new and it will be theirs and they’ll be _alive_. He lets that thought pull him into sleep, for once not worrying about the press of imminent death as he does so. Just before he drifts off completely, he feels Mark’s hand wrap around his and he wants to berate Mark for driving one handed and he’s going to do that but before he can open his mouth, he’s asleep.
>>>> 
>>>> He dreams of a kiss to his temple, sticky wetness on his cheek and Mark’s quiet, sad voice in his ear, whispering sweet nothings and apologies.  
> 
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>>   
> 
> 
>   
> 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 **seven | won’t wake up lonely**   


>   
> 
> 
> “I’m sorry, Wardo.”
> 
>   
> 
>
>>   
> 
>>
>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>> “Please.”
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>>>
>>>>   
> 
>>>>
>>>>>   
> 
>>>>> 
>>>>> He wakes with a start and touches his temple.
>>>>> 
>>>>> Mark’s looking at him with something like concern and Eduardo checks the rear view mirror. Chris and Dustin are both sleeping, a mess of limbs and there’s no bandage on his cheek. Mark’s gun is tucked away at the back of the dashboard. He lets out a breath and gives Mark what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Bad dream.”
>>>>> 
>>>>> “It didn’t bite you,” Mark assures him and it startles Eduardo that Mark knows exactly what he’s dreaming about. He tries to pinch the soft skin of his arm in a childish attempt to check but Mark intercepts his hand, threading their fingers together. “ _It didn’t bite you_.”
>>>>> 
>>>>> “Okay,” Eduardo agrees, affably. He settles back into sleep, ignoring the throb of fear just under the surface of his skin. _It didn’t bite you_ he repeats to himself, hoping the litany will help him believe it.
>>>>> 
>>>>> Just before he drifts off to sleep again, Mark squeezes his hand. “Wardo, I-“
>>>>> 
>>>>> “Mark.” Eduardo tilts his head and gives him a sleepy smile. “Me too.”
>>>>> 
>>>>> They have a lifetime to learn how to say it (and mean it).  
> 
>>>>>
>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>
>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>> This time he doesn’t dream.  
> 
>>>>>>>>>> 
>>>>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>>>> 
>>>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>>> 
>>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>>> 
>>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>>> 
>>>>>>   
> 
>>>>> 
>>>>>   
> 
>>>>> 
>>>>> “Sorry.”
>>>>> 
>>>>>   
> 
>>>> 
>>>>   
> 
>>> 
>>>   
> 
>> 
>>   
> 
> 
>   
> 

  


**the end | the beginning**


End file.
